Page 4 of Never Left You

I could see my client, Quinn, bringing her gelding round the corner. Her face was stern, etched with concentration, leaving no doubt in my mind how ready she was for this. We had been training for months before this rodeo, gearing up for this circuit.For her, it was all or nothing. This was the first ride of the twenty-seven we had planned through the upcoming weeks, and even though I was used to that vigorous of a schedule, I wasn’t sure if Quinn was. The girl was determined, I’d give her that. She insisted on this schedule, so who was I to stop her?

Seeing the drive there only brought out the spark in me I lost years ago.

But then that small twinge of electricity reminded me why I was on this side of the dirt.

Leaning against the railing, I lifted my left leg to catch my boot on the gate, my elbows keeping my torso steady as I watched Quinn gain speed. Her long brown hair flew behind her as her form on her gelding was perfect, the determination in both rider and horse unmatched. She rounded the first barrel, earning a cheer, then the second. Another loud whoop came, and Quinn smiled. I swear I could see the blush in her cheeks as she raced towards the third barrel. She had this…

Pulling on the reins, the gelding turned….

And Quinn lost balance.

My eyes widened as I froze, watching as her weight fell off to the side, her gelding’s massive body following—both landing on the dirt—her horse coming down directly on her leg. The horse rose quickly, taking Quinn and her stuck boot with it. She grimaced as her hand flew up, reaching up her leg. I watched as she maneuvered, doing exactly what I taught her, removing her boot and letting the horse go. Once she was free, she flopped on the hard ground, the prideful expression she had mere seconds before now exchanged for one of pain and defeat.

The crowd gave a loud groan as she lay there, her hat near her hip, one boot missing as she spread her arms out to her side. This wasn’t her first accident on this particular gelding, but it was her first in front of a crowd.

But hey—at least the barrel was still standing.

“Awe man,” the announcer bellowed. “That’s hard to see, especially for a rider like Compton, but there she is, up and ready to ride again. Give her a cheer because a fall doesn’t stop cowboys and cowgirls. They get right back in that saddle.”

Quinn slowly stood, grabbing her hat before she dusted off her Wranglers. She waved at the crowd and kept her eyes trained on the ground as she jogged back to the entrance, a slight limp in her step. I knew what that felt like. I knew the embarrassment and dread that came with a fall. I had fallen off horses before, and I did just what she did. I picked myself up and stood—limping away with a wave.

Pushing myself off the gate, I felt the pain shoot up my left leg, my hamstring reminding me of one particular fall, even years later. The one where I didn’t get up. Ignoring it, I quickly made my way over to Quinn. She grabbed the reins, keeping her left foot lifted from the ground, toes pointed as she hobbled.

“We need to get that looked at,” I shouted as I came up behind her.

Her back was covered in the dirt of the arena, and her cream hat was now bent. Dust flew around her as she shook her head.

“I’m fine,” she grumbled.

“Your 1700-pound horse just fell on your leg; we’re getting it checked out,” I demanded, taking the reins from her and offering my arm to help carry her off the path. “A quick x-ray and before you know it, you’ll be back on the dirt.”

Her gaze met mine as a long, slow breath left her lungs. She grimaced.

“It hurts…” she whimpered, her voice low so only I could hear. She clearly recognized that not even her brave face could win against me.

Taking on barrel racing clients wasn’t the first pick of training jobs for me, but since saddle bronc riding was no longer a way for me to bring in the checks, I had to start somewhere.I had saved up enough throughout my competing days that I was able to pay all my medical bills and afford life, but my nest egg could only last so long. I had known Quinn a little over a year, and she just happened to be looking for a new trainer when she joined the league. She was thrilled to getTheCash Callahan to train her. Last year was a win for us, Quinn gained a lot of traction and almost made it to the National Finals Rodeo. This year we were both determined to get her there, basically becoming her agent as well as her trainer. But now with a possible broken leg she just jogged on to get off the dirt, well…looks like we’d have to add recovery time to the lineup.

Quinn is a tough gal, for her to tell me it hurt…that was different.

“I know, trust me, I know,” I responded, giving her side a squeeze. “Let’s go get it seen about.”

“I can’t be out for the year.” Quinn’s voice rose as she took a step, a gasp leaving her lungs once we made it to the stall.

“You won’t be.”

“How do you know?”

“You givin’ up on me already?” I raised an eyebrow.

“No,” she griped. “That was going to be a good run. Hook had it.” She gave her gelding a quick glance as he sauntered into his stall. I helped sit her on a barrel next to it before closing the lock.

“Youand Hook had it.” I held onto her shoulder “The horse is as only as good as the rider.”

She let out a groan, closing her eyes and holding onto her knee. Shaking her head lightly, she bowed her chin. Quinn was one of the strongest girls I had met in the last few years. Basically, whatever Quinn wanted, she worked her ass off and got it. She never let anyone, or anythingget in her way. All of that tethered in my mind as I studied her, noticing her bottom lip quivering as she held back the failure I knew she had to be feeling.

I was in almost the same spot almost three years ago when I got bucked off and the horse landed on me, causing my left leg to shatter, along with other long-lasting conditions. The pain will still seep through the tough skin I’ve grown to cover it up, but it’s there. If I closed my eyes I could still see everything clear as day. The reaction from the crown would still ring in my ears. If I still felt that, would she?

Watching as Quinn walked off the dirt with only a small limp until I got to her, my guess was a simple sprain or torn muscle. With training, she and Hook would be back on the dirt sooner than she thought. She would ride again. Me on the other hand…I haven’t been on the rodeo dirt since my accident. I didn’t see myself on the other side of the chute ever again.

---